I received a phone call the other night which still has me wondering, and maybe a little more than confused. It was from my Dad, and it was one of those calls that sticks with you, questioning where, exactly, you should go from here.
I've had a very interesting life, to say the least. While not nearly as twisted as some, my past can still hold its own among the skeletons and ghost stories that seem to haunt so many's lives.
I am the child of a drug addicted alcoholic who had every intention of being everything she could...except a mother; that particular responsibility she left to my grandparents and my uncle. While it does not shock too many now, in the seventies and early eighties, and especially in the small, conservative town where I grew up, an illegitimate child was pretty much branded one with a giant "B" (for bastard) right in the middle of her forehead. Add in the drug addicted alcoholic part, and, well, you pretty much get the picture of my childhood. My grandparents did my best to shield me from it, but the stories were known, and the shadows crept in...
I will never the time when I was in fourth grade when a music teacher made the announcement that my parents were never married; you could hear the silence and feel the stares when she asked me, "Well, where's your dad?" I said, in all the innocence of a 9 year old who had already been to hell and back, twice, and had the tickets and broken bones to prove it, "I don't know."
And it was the truth, because I didn't. At that time in my life, I didn't know where he was; I just knew he wasn't really part of my existence. There had been a man I called "Dad", but I had only met him once, and there was no real bond other than the title; he wasn't even on my birth certificate (and still isn't; that line is blank). Even as I grew up, we never grew close. I saw him only a few times over the years; even when I lived in California, only a half hour from his front door, I only think I visited him twice. By that time, I was nearly 16, my mother had relinquished any and all parental rights, and I had been adopted by my uncle, who, despite the lack of formal address, I consider my father.
When I was in my twenties, certain biological factors came into play which made me question the validity of the paternity at all. I confronted my mother, who swore at the time he was "the one"; however, later she told me she had also been a prostitute at the time, and there had been five other pregnancies, all which had been terminated by one means or another. By this point, she was sick, and her addictions had taken their toll; death would find her just two years after she finally confessed everything that I already knew.
So fast forward to the here and now...
This last year has been hell on him; he lost a brother and his mother in a devastating car accident, and a brother-in-law to a sudden illness. When you throw in the demise of a long standing relationship...well, you get the picture. He never married, and has no other kids besides me. He wants, and needs a relationship with me, for whatever it may be, and I think I need it with him. Don't get me wrong; it isn't guilt, but that need for a connection. While he will never replace the father I have in my uncle, he is really the only person I've ever called "Dad".
But there is a part that worries me...if I reach out, and if I let the connection build, what happens if he disappears again? Is it worth the chance? My friend tells me to take it for what it is; I have become the rock, so to speak - the one others grab onto for stability when their worlds seem to be spinning out of control, and that's what he needs. But I don't know if I want my stability shaken by letting him closer than the arm's length we've kept each other at all of our lives. But at the same time, I really do want him to know me and know my kids, because, for whatever it's worth, they are his grandkids.
I've been working this over and worrying it my mind since I talked to him, but perhaps I am putting far too much into it than need be. Maybe I should take my friend's advice, and let it go wherever it is going to go. Who knows? Maybe this time, the relationship is really there, and maybe, just maybe, we can finally be family.
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